After the Storm eBook

“So much, and no more, my friend. I drop
the veil over my heart. You will understand me
better hereafter. I shall not marry. That
legal divorce is invalid. I could not perjure
my soul by vows of fidelity toward another. Patiently
and earnestly will I do my allotted work here.
My better hopes lie all in the heavenly future.

“And now, my friend, we will understand each
other better. You have looked deeper into my
thoughts and experiences than any other human being.
Let the revelation be sacred to yourself. The
knowledge you possess may enable you to do me justice
sometimes, and sometimes to save me from an intrusion
of themes that cannot but touch me unpleasantly.
There was a charm about Mrs. Eager that, striking me
suddenly, for a little while bewildered my fancy.
She is a woman of rare endowments, and I do not regret
the introduction and passing influence she exercised
over me. It was a dream from which the awakening
was certain. Suddenly the illusion vanished, as
I saw her beside my lost Irene. The one was of
the earth, earthy—­the other of heaven,
heavenly; and as I looked back into her brilliant face,
radiant with thought and feeling, I felt a low, creeping
shudder, as if just freed from the spell of a siren.
I cannot be enthralled again, even for a moment.”

Back again into his world’s work Mr. Emerson
returned after this brief, exciting episode, and found
in its performance from high and honorable motives
that calmly sustaining power which comes only as the
reward of duties faithfully done.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

AFTER THE STORM.

AFTER the storm! How long the treasure
remained buried in deep waters! How long the
earth showed unsightly furrows and barren places!
For nearly twenty years there had been warm sunshine,
and no failure of the dews nor the early and latter
rain. But grass had not grown nor flowers blossomed
in the path of that desolating tempest. Nearly
twenty years! If the history of these two lives
during that long period could be faithfully written,
it would flood the soul with tears.

Four years later than the time when we last presented
Irene to the reader we introduce her again. That
meeting in the picture-gallery had disturbed profoundly
the quiet pulses of her life. She did not observe
Mr. Emerson’s companion. The picture alone
had attracted her attention; and she had just began
to feel its meaning when an audible sigh reached her
ears. The answering sigh was involuntary.
Then they looked into each other’s faces again—­only
for an instant—­but with what a volume of
mutual revelations!